Aftermath
by ninthsgirl
Summary: The Doctor, Rose, and Jack must deal with the fallout from the events on the Gamestation. AU. Post Parting of the Ways.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The room he was in was vast, barren, and hot, furnace hot, and he spun around wildly, looking for the source so he could turn it off, turn it off before his flesh began to melt. Then he realized that he was the source, that his body was glowing, burning, because of the insects that were flying around him, flying without wings. Their metallic golden bodies shone and they were shrieking and stinging him, attacking him with their long stingers without ever touching him, and everywhere they stung, his body caught fire.

He swung his arms blindly to beat them off, but they easily dodged his frantic attempts. He remembered suddenly that he had a fly swatter in his coat pocket, but, when he pulled it out, it crumbled to dust in his fingers. His eyes scanned the room frantically. There was a switch on the other side of the room that he knew would suck the fierce creatures away, but he was afraid, afraid to touch it because… because it was bad. He heard his own moans echoing inside his head, for he knew he had to do it anyway, even if it was bad. If the insects got out of this room, bad didn't begin to describe what would happen.

Suddenly there was the pup, the cub, running toward him. How did it get back to him? He had locked the little creature in its kennel when he had first noticed it following him, but who had let it out? He didn't want the insects to sting it, too – it was too small to withstand the poison spreading through his own body. He tried to yell at it to leave, but his voice rasped uselessly in his throat.

The pup took a position between him and the buzzing cloud of insects and stood its ground, legs splayed stiffly and hackles raised. It was a ridiculous sight, this tiny thing trying to protect him, and he would have laughed if he hadn't been absolutely terrified. It barked again and again, a loud but melodious song that swirled around them like liquid gold, barked and growled until, amazingly, the insect hoard began to recede and finally faded away.

When all was quiet he reached out a hand to pet the pup, to thank it for saving him, but there was no hand, just a burned stump at the end of his arm. He staggered in horror at the sight and fell to his knees. The flames were rising, destroying him, consuming him. The pup ran toward him eagerly, pink tongue lolling, looking absurdly pleased with itself, but he knew if it came too close it would be burned, too, so he opened his mouth to shout, to warn it away, and the golden fire slid down his throat, poured into his ears and nose and eyes. Now he was burning on the inside, too, like a candle lit at both ends.

He wasn't even aware he had fallen onto his back on the floor until he saw the pup's eyes above him. The little thing looked at him so sadly and was whimpering so pitifully, and he wanted to comfort it but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, and he cried inside because the pup was supposed to be safe in its kennel and who would feed it now that he had no hands?

It was getting hard to breathe now, so he decided to stop for awhile. It felt so much better to just rest. But something in his head, the barking song of the dog, told him he couldn't do that, so he obediently pulled in a scorching lungful of air. His eyes drifted blearily over the stars shining down on him through the transparent ceiling. He had never seen these constellations before, had never seen stars and planets streak and swirl across the cosmos like this. It was quite beautiful, he thought hazily, even when one star flashed down and burst through his chest to lodge in his left heart.

He was too far gone, too wracked with weariness and pain to question when a large peacock fluttered down beside him and settled near his hip. It tipped its brilliant blue head from side to side, examining him with jewel-bright eyes for a long moment before opening its beak.

"Why didn't you get rid of them yourself, you coward? We were counting on you. You made a real mess, and now you don't even have hands to help us clean up."

Guilt began to eat away at him along with the flames. He heard his own voice in his head, making excuses, and was disgusted with himself, with the whining.

"It's mine now, you know," said the bird, inclining its head toward the little dog that cringed near him, quivering, all its bravery evaporated. "I've always wanted this puppy. Look at you – what would it want with you anyway?"

After I'm done burning I might be better, he argued silently. Maybe I'll have hands again. It's hard to say, though. Fire is unpredictable.

"This isn't a fairy tale," sneered the bird, preening itself. "Ugly ducklings don't turn into swans in real life." It crowed triumphantly as it spread out its tail feathers in a gorgeous fan, blue and green and shimmering. It expanded until it loomed over him, obscuring the stars. He wanted to hate the bird, wanted to be sorry he had ever seen it, wanted to hate it for being right and for telling him so, but it was too magnificent. It was right – no fire could fix something as broken, as ugly as him. He would burn to ash and disappear, and they would live and be happy, and that was good.

As he thought this, the pup suddenly let out a high-pitched yelp and jumped onto his chest. He could not warn it to stay away because his throat was on fire, dry and desiccated as bones in the desert sun. But the little dog was not hurt by his heat. It settled its weight comfortably over his hearts, paws on the left one where the star was pulsing, its soft brown eyes glistening with tears. They dripped steadily down its nose onto him and wherever the tears landed, a blessedly cool spot appeared. Don't cry, he thought to the dog, dying isn't so very bad. But the pup only cried harder, tears falling fast now in a golden stream, onto his chest, his neck, his face. Poor little thing, he thought, wishing he could stroke its fur and wondering what it would feel like, then everything else faded away…


	2. The More Things Change

EX-TER-MI-NATE! EX-TER-MI-NATE!

He shot up like a rocket, gasping for air, hearts thundering in his chest, adrenaline firing through his body. His eyes darted wildly around him, but he saw nothing of his surroundings. He was searching frantically for the creature of his worst nightmares, his mortal enemy. He would never escape them – they would follow him and destroy all that he held dear and there was nothing he could do to stop them and then they would destroy him…

No, no, it wasn't real, it wasn't here. He struggled to regain his fragile hold on his sanity, before terror swept him away. Even as panic held him in its grip, his brain was assessing his bodily functions, and he could tell from the sparkling flashes in his peripheral vision and the tingling in his extremities that he was hyperventilating, seconds away from passing out. His head fell forward as he fought to control his respirations, and sweat poured from his face into his lap.

After several long minutes he felt his hearts slowing and the panic subsiding, although he was still shaking. He lifted his head, wiping the sweat off his face with the back of his hand as he looked warily around him, taking in the surroundings he had been unable to perceive before. To his surprise he found himself on his bed in his own room in the TARDIS. Why he was surprised by this he didn't know. He had just awoken from a dream… hadn't he? His gaze fell on his desk, cluttered with his latest projects, his small bookshelf, the open door to his bathroom, trying to understand why all of this looked normal but felt wrong somehow.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and discovered that he was wearing pajama trousers and a tee shirt. Strange, that… he usually just stretched out on top of the blankets in his clothes for a quick nap, his only concession taking off his leather coat. He stood up and immediately realized that this was a mistake – his vision began to cloud and his head spun, and he hurriedly dropped back down onto the bed before he passed out. He felt so odd, so unlike himself – weak yet bursting with some kind of strange but familiar energy. His perception of his environment was amazingly hypersensitive. He could feel the texture of the sheets under the pads of his fingers, the individual fibers of the rug beneath his feet. He smelled stale sweat and engine grease, exhaustion and … tea? Something had happened, something that lurked just out of his reach, waiting to pounce…

A click from across the room and his eyes quickly lifted to see a blonde girl in jeans and a pale blue hoodie walking in the door. She was carrying a mug in her hands but it fell to the floor with a dull thud when she saw him. For the briefest second her eyes flashed golden and blazing, and he drew a sharp breath in fear and wonder, and then it was gone, and Rose, his Rose, was running to him, arms outstretched.

"Doctor!" she cried, and there was trepidation and joy mingled in her voice as she dropped to her knees in front of him and grasped his hands tightly in her own. He felt a shock, like a current of electricity, flow through him at her touch. Her eyes, now just their normal hazel, searched his face anxiously. "Thank goodness you're awake! How do you feel?"

He opened his mouth to answer but instead broke into paroxysms of coughing. His throat and mouth were parched, his vocal cords felt singed. Immediately she jumped to her feet and ran into the bathroom, returning in a moment with a cup of water. She held it to his lips and he gulped it down gratefully.

"Are you better now?" she asked worriedly. She sat down next to him on the bed and rubbed his back as he fought to bring his breathing under control. Even as he heaved and gasped, eyes streaming with tears, he was excruciatingly aware of her hand on him. It felt like a brand through the thin cotton of his damp shirt.

"Yes," he croaked, then, carefully clearing his throat, asked, "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" she asked, turning toward him and holding his hands again.

He searched his mind – nothing seemed clear, just vague impressions and images dancing out of reach. Even his time sense felt out of sync, like he was disconnected, adrift. "Only bits and pieces." The fact that her thumbs were gently stroking over his knuckles did not help clear his head in the slightest.

"Well, we're not too sure, either," she said, and she bit her lower lip for a moment. "We're hoping you can fill in some of the blank spaces. We've been so busy taking care of you and the TARDIS. We had you in the infirmary at first, but then the TARDIS said it was all right to bring you in here so long as I kept the tea nearby. She was very insistent about the tea – dunno what that's all about."

"Full of antioxidants and tannins – good for the synapses," he said automatically, hardly aware that he spoke. "Was I – unconscious?" he asked apprehensively, and she nodded. He searched her face – she looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, hair pulled into a messy plait. She was still beautiful, he thought. "How long?"

"Two or three days, I think," she said, her brow furrowed slightly. "'S always hard to keep track of the days in the vortex."

Two or three… days? "We're in the vortex?" He was about to ask her another question, but something she had just said made him pause. "Wait a minute – you said the TARDIS told you about the tea. What do you mean, told you?"

She bit her lip again, then said quietly, "She's been speakin' to me. I can hear her in my head."

He stared at her, incredulous. "But… but…that's not possible," he stammered, completely gobsmacked. "Only me. I'm the only one who can – you can hear her?"

"Ever since we left the Gamestation," she said almost musingly. "At first it scared me – it was strange enough knowin' she was translatin' inside my head, remember? But she told me not to worry and helped me take care of you."

He was stunned. He knew that the TARDIS was extremely fond of Rose. He had teased her about it more than once. But to actually be able to communicate with her…

"You were ill, I think," Rose was continuing. He looked back into her face and saw her eyes swimming in tears. "Unconscious. Your skin was…shimmering. Glowing from the inside, like you were on fire, and you were so hot. Sometimes you cried out – about Daleks and delta waves and… something about a dog." She squeezed his hands convulsively. "I was scared to death, even though the TARDIS said you would be all right."

He experienced a strange sensation, as if a piece of his memory was sliding into place, and suddenly he could see what had been just out of reach – the Gamestation, the Controller, the Dalek fleet bearing down on them, and Rose – Rose emerging from the TARDIS glowing with light and power…

His head spun and he must have looked lightheaded again because her hands were now on his chest, pushing him back onto his pillows. "Lie down," she urged him. "You haven't eaten in days and you're still so weak. Don't want to have to haul you into bed again – my back's still not the same," she added with a weak grin.

"Did you get me here by yourself?" he asked in astonishment. Rose was in good shape but to pull his dead weight…

"No, Jack and I did, of course," she answered, puzzled by his question. "You look pretty thin, but you're heavy!"

"Jack? But… Jack's –"

"Glad to see you back in the land of the living, Doc," announced a voice from across the room. The Doctor looked over Rose's shoulder and what he saw hit him like a blow to his solar plexus. His blood seemed to drain away and he cringed against his pillows in shock.

Jack was walking toward them with his familiar swagger, smiling widely. "I told Rosie you'd be all right, but she couldn't stop hovering around you like our very own Florence Nightingale." He winked at her, but then his smile began to fade. "Doc? Are you ok?"

Jack. Jack Harkness, whom he thought had been killed by a Dalek. But not the Jack, the friend remembered. This… he was… wrong. Very, very wrong. The Doctor's mind reeled - he couldn't process this, couldn't begin to understand how their friend had become… this! It was impossible!

He realized how he must be staring at Jack and tried to school his features into a more neutral expression, pushing down the horror he was feeling. Jack didn't know, or didn't understand… "Um, yeah, I'm fine, just surprised and – glad to see you." He hesitated only a fraction of a second over the word. Gladness was the last thing he was experiencing right now. He could hardly think. "I thought the Daleks – "

"So did I." Jack was still eyeing the Doctor as if he wanted to ask him something but had decided to wait for now. "I was the last man standing, remember? The Daleks were coming toward me with the usual 'Exterminate!' line. I emptied every gun I had and then… I was lying on the floor and the Daleks were gone. Just piles of dust on the floor."

Rose was looking from the Doctor to Jack as if aware that something was going on between them but unable to figure out what. The Doctor felt another memory tickle in the back of his mind at Jack's words.

"I ran back to the TARDIS and found you and Rose collapsed on the floor of the control room. I managed to get us into the vortex despite the damage. By then Rose was awake, and we got you into the med bay."

"Damage?" He was almost afraid to ask. He was beginning to feel that he could expect almost anything today.

"Yeah, Rose did a real number on the control panel – I think she used a truck to pull it apart from what she remembered," he grinned then added quickly at the look of horror on the Doctor's face, "Don't worry – I've almost got her back to her good old self."

The Doctor mentally reached out to his ship and relaxed a bit when he felt her reassuring hum echo in his head.

"Jack, don't scare him," Rose scolded. She was looking at him worriedly – obviously his expression was still too revealing.

Memories were rushing upon him now…

"_If I'm really clever – and I'm not just clever, I'm brilliant – I might just save the Earth – or rip it apart."_

"_I'd go for the first."_

"_Me, too."_

_..._

"_You see, Jack, that's the decision I've got to make for every living thing – die as a human or live as a Dalek… What would you do?"_

"_You sent her home. She's safe. Keep working."_

_..._

"_Doctor, you've got twenty seconds maximum!"_

"_Ex-ter-mi-nate!"_

"_I kind of figured that."_

_..._

"_You really want to think about this 'cause if I activate this signal every living creature dies!"_

_..._

"_Hail the Doctor, the great Exterminator!"_

_..._

"_What are you, coward or killer?"_

"_Coward, any day."_

_..._

"_What have you done?"_

"_I looked into the TARDIS, and the TARDIS looked into me."_

_..._

"_I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself."_

_..._

"_You've got the entire vortex runnin' through your head – you're gonna burn!"_

"_I want you safe… my Doctor. Protected from the false god."_

_..._

"_How can I let go of this? I bring life!"_

_..._

"_I can see all that is… all that was… all that ever could be."_

_..._

"_C'mere. I think you need a Doctor."_

_..._

_He lifted her into his arms – he had to get them both into the safety of the TARDIS before the change began. Already the fire was beginning to lick through his body. His legs were shaking as he carried her into the control room and laid her down carefully onto the grating. He needed her to wake up before… she would be so scared if she woke up to… His knees buckled and he fell beside her…_

_..._

He could feel their eyes on him as these thoughts raced through his brain. He could hardly comprehend all he had remembered. Rose… and Jack… and … he had regenerated! Of course he had! No one could hold the Time Vortex as he had without being destroyed. That explained the glowing Rose described, the excess of energy he was experiencing, the strange disorientation. No wonder they were staring at him. They had certainly not expected this, any more than he had expected Jack.

"So, must have been surprised to see me," he said with a weak attempt at a smile. "Or maybe you figured it out, Jack?" He had to force himself to look the Time Agent directly in the face – the man's handsome face made his skin crawl. "You know a little about Time Lords, right? Probably heard rumors. How do I look? Is it an improvement? Am I ginger?" For reasons he did not care to analyze, he hoped Rose would approve of his new appearance.

"Figured out what, Doctor?" queried Jack with a hint of wariness.

Jack and Rose were looking from each other to him, and there was definitely more than a trace of alarm, especially in Rose's face. This was certainly not the reaction he was expecting. Why were they looking at him like that? What had happened to him? An answering fear was rising in him, a trace of panic returning…

"Doctor, what are you going on about?" Rose said in bewilderment, laying a hand on his shoulder. Again a current seemed to jump through him at her touch. "What's wrong?"

He needed to see for himself. He swung his legs out of bed and stood up again, swaying a bit but regaining his balance. The bathroom – there was a mirror –

"Doctor, no!" Rose cried, grabbing onto his arm. "You're still too weak!"

He shook off her hand more roughly than was his custom – a part of his mind registered this and he felt a pang of remorse - and staggered through the open door into the loo. He leaned on the edge of the sink for support and peered into the mirror at his reflection for a long, silent minute. Then the breath he had been unknowingly holding exited his lungs in a hiss of utter amazement. Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been this!

"What in the bloody hell…?"


	3. The More They Stay the Same?

"What in the bloody hell…?"

He took in the reflection before him in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. As far as he knew, this had never happened before.

Close-cropped hair. High, sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes. Big ears and nose.

He hadn't changed at all.

Now he ran his hands over his face in frantic haste, not believing the evidence of his own eyes. He examined those hands, long-fingered, callused, familiar. He felt his arms, his chest, looked down at his long legs and bare feet. All was just as he remembered.

How could this be? He had regenerated. He could feel the proof inside, the energy coursing through him, the eerie instability that was a hallmark of the process. Even as he stared at himself, he saw a faint wisp of gold slip from between his lips and vanish into the air.

He had regenerated – he just hadn't changed.

A tentative voice from behind him brought him back. "Doctor?"

He turned to see Rose and Jack hovering in the doorway. Rose was watching him nervously, eyes huge in her pale face. Jack stood behind her, hand resting casually on her shoulder. The Doctor's eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tightened as he felt a swift flash of anger, hot and irrational, at the sight. _He was touching Rose._

"Doctor, what's going on? What can we do to help?" she asked him, taking a hesitant step toward him, as if afraid of spooking him. Jack's hand fell from her shoulder, and he breathed an equally irrational sigh of relief.

"I regenerated," he answered, mind still racing, desperately searching his vast knowledge for a hint, a clue to solving this mystery.

"That really happens?" Jack looked surprised. "It's not a myth? I heard rumors while I was with the Time Agents…"

"Yes, it's real," said the Doctor grimly. "But this isn't normal."

"What do you mean, not normal?"

"Hello, remember me?" Both men's eyes flew to Rose, who was staring at them in frustration, hands on hips. "I hate to interrupt, but either of you care to explain to me what's going on here?"

"I regenerated," the Doctor repeated.

"Yes, I gathered that much," Rose said with more than a hint of sarcasm. "But what does that exactly mean, regenerate?"

The Doctor drew in a deep breath, then said, "It's a Time Lord trick, a way of cheating death. When we - when I am about to die, I can change every cell in my body and survive."

Rose stared at him silently for a long minute. "You… you almost died?" He nodded. "Why?"

"Long story – I'll have to explain later." _When I figure out how much I can tell you_, he added heavily to himself. "When I regenerate, my appearance and personality change, but not my memories or my feelings. But this time I didn't change at all."

He watched her face as she tried to comprehend what he was saying – despite his anxiety, he smiled inside at the way her nose and forehead scrunched up as she puzzled over this. "You mean, if you did this… regeneration thing… you – would look – like a completely different person?"

"Yes," he answered quietly, just as he had on that first night in the TARDIS when she had asked him if he was an alien.

Suddenly and to his utter surprise, Rose strode up to him and whacked him angrily and painfully on the shoulder. As he winced and pulled away, she said loudly, "You – you alien git! It never occurred to you to warn me about this? How did you think I would take it if all of a sudden you looked like … some stranger? How did you expect me to wrap my mind around that?"

As he looked at her fierce expression, he suddenly remembered quite vividly that she was Jackie Tyler's daughter. "Rose, I didn't expect to be changing for a while." To his embarrassment, he heard a note of pleading in his voice. "I didn't think it would be an issue. My body usually lasts longer than this – it hasn't been that long since my last regener-"

"You've done this before?" she interrupted through gritted teeth, her voice rising in pitch, a definite danger sign. Her eyes were narrowed and her hands clenched at her sides. He took a precautionary step away from her.

"This is my ninth body, my tenth regeneration," he admitted reluctantly, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Tenth!" Her voice was so high, soon only dogs would be able to hear her. "Are you completely daft? How could you – "

"I think this is my cue to leave," Jack cut in quickly. "We'll talk later, Doc. Go easy on him, Rose," he added with a chuckle. "He's only been conscious for less than a half hour."

The Doctor felt a measure of tension leave him once Jack was gone. Exhaustion was rapidly swamping him again, and he lowered himself to sit on the bathroom floor, his back against the wall. "Rose, 'm sorry," he began helplessly. He hated feeling helpless.

All the anger seemed to flow out of Rose in an instant, leaving her looking pale and tired as well. She sank down next to him, leaning against his shoulder. "_I'm_ sorry, Doctor," she said softly. "I didn't mean to jump all over you. It's just … it's all been so mad, and now I find out I almost really lost you." Her voice quavered as she said this.

"Wouldn't have lost me," he replied. He took her hand in his; their fingers laced together familiarly, and it was like coming home. "Different body, same man."

"But I don't want you to look different. I like you the way you are!" she protested indignantly. The statement made his hearts ache strangely.

"Come on, Rose, I could've been a pretty boy," he teased her, bumping her shoulder with his. "I know you like those."

"I don't want a pretty – oh, stop trying to take the mickey out of me!" she said with a hint of crossness.

"Sorry," he apologized gently as he saw how much the idea upset her. "Just trying to lighten the moment." Although he would never admit it, he was absurdly pleased that she cared so much for this daft old face. He paused, stroking his thumb over her knuckles absently. "I just don't know what happened to keep me looking the same. I don't understand why I didn't change, and I don't like things I can't understand."

"Do you have any control over how you'll look?" she asked after a minute of silence.

"Not much. Suppose I could try to influence it a bit, but I've never done it before. Never had a reason to," he shrugged.

Another brooding silence, then Rose asked hesitantly, "Doctor, why did you almost die? What happened on the Gamestation? Why can't I remember?"

The Doctor sighed tiredly. So much had happened and he still only remembered and understood so little. He needed time to sort it all out and figure out what was safe to tell her. "Rose, could we talk about this later? 'M still knackered. Usually I would put myself into a healing coma after regeneration, but I've been unconscious for so long – and you kept the tea near, which was perfect, by the way – that I think I'm ok. Just need a nap – and a shower." He grimaced. "Shower first, I think. Need to get out of these clothes before they walk away on their own."

"In case you were wonderin'," said Rose with a teasing grin, "Jack changed your clothes. I would've, but I wanted to preserve your Time Lord modesty."

"Now I'm worried!" he said with mock alarm. "Where were you? In case I needed your protection?"

"Oh, I was there," she answered breezily, her smile widening. She bumped against his shoulder playfully. "In the corner - takin' pictures."

"Cheeky minx!" he exclaimed with a flash of his own manic grin. He rose to his feet and, taking her outstretched hands, pulled her up. She overbalanced slightly, bumping into him, and he grasped her by the shoulders to steady her. She peered up into his face searchingly.

"Sure you're strong enough to stand in the shower?" she asked concernedly.

"Volunteerin' to help me?" he rejoined, eyebrows raised wickedly.

"Now who's cheeky?" She flashed her tongue-touched smile at him, and one of his hearts definitely skipped a beat or two. "Just don't want you crackin' your head on the tile – or maybe crackin' the tile with your head."

"Oi!"

"I'll check on you later, ok?"

"Don't worry, Rose, I'll be fine," he said reassuringly. He remembered something he had wanted to ask. "By the way, where's my jacket?"

Rose's expression became instantly nervous and she cast her eyes away from his. "I'm sorry, Doctor," she said remorsefully. "It got torn pretty bad while we were dragging you to the med bay."

"What? Not my jacket – I love that jacket!" He knew they had been trying to help him, but… his jacket? It was seriously amazing, that jacket, and he had just fixed the pockets so they could hold even more…

Rose looked back up at him, and her eyes were sparkling. "Just kidding, just kidding!" she said swiftly, throwing up her hands in pretend defense. "It's hangin' in your closet good as new. And your sonic's in the pocket, too," she added.

Before he could think of a comeback, she went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. He caught himself before he put his fingers up, like a lovesick schoolboy, to the burning spot where her lips touched him. His emotions felt wildly imbalanced, his responses to them strong and unpredictable. "See you soon."

He rolled his eyes but said nothing about her joke. "Go get some sleep – you're dead on your feet."

She slowly, reluctantly turned away and walked toward the door. The Doctor followed her with his gaze, loathe to let her leave but knowing he needed time alone to sort out how his world had gone so inexplicably pear-shaped. She paused in the doorway, however, and, after a moment, spun around and launched herself back into his arms. He staggered slightly, still unsteady on his feet, but caught her automatically and pulled her close to him, chests and hips and thighs pressing together. Her head fit under his chin perfectly, and he rested his cheek on the bright gold of her hair with a sigh. He could smell traces of her shampoo and the lavender lotion she had used and something else, something wonderfully and uniquely _Rose_. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, holding to him tightly, and he could feel her hot human hands through his shirt and the quick beat of her heart against him. She took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shuddering sigh, and he felt like he could stand here in this bathroom forever, as long as she stayed in his arms.

"I'm so glad you're back," she whispered simply.

He pulled back from her slightly and framed her face in his hands. A single tear had slipped past her lashes; he wiped it away with his thumb. "Me, too," he answered softly and pressed a gentle kiss onto her forehead. Her skin was silk under his fingers and lips, and everything inside begged him to hold onto her so he could just keep breathing her in, his beautiful, brilliant girl. But he forced himself to step away from her warmth.

"Go on, now. Get some sleep," he repeated, turning her around and nudging her toward the door.

She looked back at him again as she reached the doorway. "I have to call Mum before I fall asleep and let her know you're ok."

"Nah, don't ruin her day," he said with a wry grin.

"Don't be so surprised -she's been right worried about you," she said, shaking an admonishing finger at him.

"The universe must be coming to an end – Jackie Tyler is concerned about me!"

Rose laughed, a low, throaty sound that made his nerves hum. "Sweet dreams, Doctor."

"You, too, Rose."

For a long time the Doctor stood under the hard, hot spray of the shower, trying to understand the strange reality in which he now found himself. Regeneration. The impossible, terrifying newness of Jack. And Rose… Rose, who he instinctively suspected was the key to the mysteries. Rose, whose presence and touch now made his blood seem to sing in his veins.


	4. Before I Lay Me Down to Sleep

"Yeah, Mum, I'll do my best. It depends on when the Doctor and the TARDIS are ready… Yeah, I love you, too, Mum. 'Bye."

Rose tucked her jiggery-poked superphone into her hoodie pocket as she entered the control room and smiled. Of course, he was right where she knew he would be, under the grating and up to his elbows in wires. Men were the same all over, she thought fondly. They couldn't resist tinkering, whether it be with cars or alien timeships.

"Here you go," she said as she reached the hatch in the floor and held out a steaming mug to him.

"Coffee? Perfect!" exclaimed Jack, looking at her with a pleased smile and reaching up to take the mug from her. "I love a good cuppa, as you say, but coffee's just what I needed right now."

"Know you like it." She sat down on the grating near the open hatch and watched as he took an appreciative gulp then set the mug down next to him to continue his work. "Besides, I can't bear the smell of tea right now." Her nose wrinkled. "Feel like it's in my pores."

"Sleeping Beauty share any more info after I left?" Jack asked, twisting two wires together and checking the connection.

"Not much – he's really tired." She paused for a moment, then said, "You've really heard of regeneration?"

"Like I said, just rumors. Didn't really think much about it at the time." The wires sparked and he swore softly under his breath, shaking his singed fingers. "Did you notice anything different about him?"

"Hard to say – I guess we'll find out soon enough," she replied thoughtfully. "I just wish he had told me about it before all this. I definitely don't like that kind of surprise," she added with a frown.

"He's not exactly the most forthcoming man I've ever met," Jack remarked absently, repairing the connection without further incident.

"That's an understatement," Rose said with a rueful smile. "How's the TARDIS?"

"We're getting there." Jack patted the glowing column. "We've finally come to an… understanding. I'll fix her up, and she'll stop shocking me." He frowned slightly as he untangled another cluster of wires. "I don't understand. She always let me work on her before."

"Maybe 'cause the Doctor's not here with you? Maybe that's made her nervous." She gently touched the edge of the controls and felt a soft hum in her mind.

"Maybe." His tone was dubious. "Did I tell you I had a hard time getting in here while we were on the Gamestation? My key kept jamming in the lock, then the door wouldn't open wide enough to let me in. I finally squeezed my way in. She wasn't happy about that."

"There's a female in the universe that's resistant to your charms?" Rose chuckled, and the TARDIS hummed her amusement, much to Rose's delight.

"Shocking, isn't it?" Jack grinned, then continued, "It's strange, though. I feel like she's just… tolerating me. I think you've damaged her judgment, Rose Tyler, ripping her open like that. Hand me those wire strippers, would you?"

She passed the tool through the hatch into his outstretched hand. A few quiet minutes passed as Jack worked, whistling softly under his breath, and Rose watched him sleepily through heavy-lidded eyes, arms hugging the knees drawn up to her chest, listening to the music she had only just noticed playing softly. "Who is this?" she asked idly.

"Duke Ellington. I picked up an appreciation for big band during the Blitz. Good memories," he said, looking up at her with a smile.

"Yeah." Rose's own smile was soft as she continued, "When I was little, my grandpa would play music like this on his record player. He told me how his parents, my great-grandparents, met during the War. They used to go dancing all the time – he said they fell in love while dancing. He taught me the steps, and we would dance around their sitting room, and my gran would watch and smile."

"No wonder you knew all those moves. I thought they were a little before your time."

Rose rested her head on her updrawn knees, and her thoughts drifted away from the present, back to the night when everybody had lived. When music had filled the control room and they had danced. Rose and the Doctor, Rose and Jack, even the Doctor and Jack. They had performed a completely over-the-top parody of a tango, stalking dramatically across the grating while Rose lay slumped in the jumpseat, clutching her sides and wheezing with helpless laughter. Happy tears had trickled down her cheeks as she watched the Doctor open up and clown around like a child, the somber aura that normally surrounded him falling away. And then, after Jack had said his goodnights and headed off to his new room, the lights of the TARDIS had dimmed and "Dream a Little Dream of Me" had begun to play. The Doctor had held out his hand to her with his wide, beautiful smile. She had taken it wordlessly and they began to dance. Barely a dance at all, more a gentle swaying, her head on his shoulder, his cheek on her hair. She had listened to the lyrics floating around her.

Stars shining bright above you  
Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you  
Birds singin' in the sycamore tree  
Dream a little dream of me

Say nighty-night and kiss me  
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me  
While I'm alone and blue as can be  
Dream a little dream of me

And for one brief, shining minute she did dream, a sweet, radiant vision. It had made her breath catch in her throat and her heart skip a beat. Then the moment was broken as he spun her away from him with surprising grace and said briskly that it was time for bed. And she had walked away, away from the control room, away from the Doctor, away from dreams and this wonderful time when all was right and everybody lived.

"You still up there?"

Rose returned to the present with a start and a blush. "Um, yeah, yeah," she answered hastily and added quickly to cover her momentary lapse, "So, did you notice how the Doctor kept looking at you? What was up with that – besides the obvious 'you're alive' thing?"

Jack eyed her shrewdly at her obvious deflection but let it pass. "I don't know. I'm sure he'll tell us – or we'll pry it out of him," he answered with a chuckle. "So, is he sleeping now?"

"Said he was gonna take a shower first."

"You didn't stay to wash his back?" Jack waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Jack!" she exclaimed.

"Don't tell me you didn't want to – I see the way you look at him."

_How exactly did she look at him?_ she wondered with a slight feeling of panic. "Jack, we're… we're not like that. We're… we're better than that," she protested, stammering slightly.

"You can be better than that and still have _that_, you know," he rejoined. "In fact, having _that_ would make the 'better than that' even better… than that."

Rose looked down at his smug smile for a moment then shook her head helplessly. "I must be tired, 'cause I think I understood that."

"You just can't resist my superior logic."

"Logic, hm?" Her expression was skeptical. "Well, that's one word for it."

"Hey!"

She grinned at his mock indignation, but the grin was broken by a sudden, nearly jaw-cracking yawn. "Oh, 'm so tired! I feel like I haven't slept for a week," she moaned.

"Go to bed," he advised her. "Sleep while he is. I know you won't want to when he's awake."

"Will you come get me if anything comes up?"

"Of course. You want me to come and tuck you in?" He ogled her with such a wicked expression that she snorted with laughter. Jack was so extravagantly flirtatious and suggestive with her it bordered on the ridiculous. Rose suspected that, if she were to take him up on any of his come-ons, he would probably run away in panic.

Probably, she thought. Maybe. She realized uneasily that she wasn't quite sure enough to test the theory.

She suddenly felt a rush of fondness for this funny, handsome man who had insinuated himself into her heart. He was brave, a true friend, the goofy, protective older brother she had never had. She remembered what he had said to her on Floor 500 – "You're worth fighting for" – and once again felt humbled.

"I love you, Jack," she announced impulsively.

He looked up at her quickly and flashed her a dazzling smile. "Well, of course you do. How could you resist?" As she laughed again, he added seriously, "Love you, too, gorgeous."

They smiled at each other for a moment, then Jack said, "Now off to bed or I'll carry you there, and then you won't be getting any rest at all."

Rose slowly got to her feet, stretching and yawning widely. "OK. 'Night, Jack."

"Good night, Rose. Thanks again for the coffee."

She heard him start to whistle again as she stumbled out of the control room, clumsy with exhaustion. She was pleased to see that the TARDIS had moved her bedroom next to the Doctor's and sent the ship a silent thank you. She paused outside his plain dark wood door and listened closely but heard nothing. She stood there for a minute, swaying on her feet with weariness, wanting to knock, wanting to see that he was still awake, still alive, still the same man she knew and… well, knew. Instead she slowly turned away and entered her own room, which she had not seen since before their trip to Kyoto. Since the Gamestation she had been napping in the chair next to the Doctor's bed. She staggered to her unmade bed and, too exhausted to change into her pajamas, flopped down and was sound asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

She moved only once while she slept. She suddenly sat up, eyes wide open and unseeing, and muttered, "I want you safe. I want you safe." Then she fell back and did not stir. When she woke up for real much later, she remembered nothing of her dream, only felt a vague sense that she had forgotten something important.


	5. Revelations

The first thing the Doctor knew when he awoke was that he had been asleep for six hours, twenty two minutes, and fifteen seconds.

Time sense functioning properly again, he thought as he sat up and swung his legs out of bed in one smooth motion, fully awake in an instant. He scrubbed his hands over his face, then over his close-cropped hair. He hadn't slept that long in years. _How do humans do it, sleep away half their lives_? he wondered for what seemed the thousandth time. He performed a swift internal scan – still humming with excess regeneration energy but otherwise all seemed fairly normal. He felt slightly hungry and very thirsty and desperately in need of a trip to the loo.

Five minutes and thirty five seconds later he was dressed, back in his familiar black jeans, green jumper, and boots. Reaching into his closet, his hand hovered near leather, wondering. He had always changed his attire after a regeneration, a new outfit to match a new appearance, a new personality – it seemed an appropriate compulsion. What should he do this time, when he was new but still the same? After a moment of internal debate, he shrugged on the battered leather and sighed. It still felt right, he thought with a hint of a smile. He was glad – this really was a great jacket.

Ok, he could definitely use some food and a cuppa, but first he needed to see the control room. Jack's words about damage still rang in his ears and, despite the ship's reassurances, he would feel better when he had assessed it with his own eyes. He stepped out of his room and smiled as he saw that Rose's room was next to his. _Still worrying about me?_ He sent his amused thought out to his ship, and the TARDIS hummed with a slight note of sheepish apology. _'S_ _ok_, he reassured her silently. Pausing outside Rose's door, he asked, _So, you're talkin' to her now? Wha's up with_ _that, old girl? _Apparently on this topic he was getting the silent treatment, for there was no reply forthcoming. _Stubborn_, he thought, but with fondness_. Don't think you're getting' off that easy. Discussing this later, you an' I._

He began to walk down the corridor past her room when suddenly, without his conscious volition, he stopped and laid his hands on the smooth surface of Rose's door. Why he did this, he wasn't entirely sure. His fingers softly slid across the wood as his mind reached out toward her, feeling for the warmth of her presence. His hand was actually on the doorknob before he even realized it. He pulled back as if burned, alarmed and bewildered by the rush of emotion. He was baffled by this strange pull she seemed to be exerting on him. He had always had a special connection to her, had lately begun to feel things he didn't dare name, not even in his own mind, but never had his emotions felt so… raw, so out of his control. With rather more fear than he would ever have admitted, he hurried away.

"Hey, Doc – in here."

A voice he had not wanted to hear beckoned as he neared the control room. He hesitated instinctively at the sound and cursed silently - he could not now pretend he hadn't heard. With an inaudible sigh he turned to look into the kitchen and saw Jack sitting at the table, plate and mug in front of him, a welcoming smile on his face. A chill ran down his spine, raising gooseflesh on his arms. It was still a shock to look at him, to see the change in him. For a moment there resided in him a wild desire to throw this parody of a man, this anomaly, into the Void, or maybe take him back to the Gamestation and leave him, fly away and pretend he no longer existed, that he had actually died. He was promptly ashamed of his reaction.

"Jack," he said in greeting as he entered, pleased that his voice did not betray his tension.

"How're you feeling?" Jack asked

"Still a little unsettled," the Doctor answered. "Normal, that, after a regeneration. The sleep helped, though."

"Hungry?" Jack gestured toward his plate, on which food was heaped. "I just scrambled some eggs, and I've got plenty of toast."

"Just the toast, thanks. I'll grab a banana, too." He poured himself a cup of tea from the pot on the stove and, picking a banana from the counter, sat down opposite Jack, who had begun to eat.

"Always the bananas?" he asked with a grin.

"Bananas are always good," the Doctor replied, peeling and taking a bite of the fruit. He was relieved to find that he still liked them – sometimes his taste in foods changed drastically with regeneration, but a love of bananas seemed to be a constant.

"The TARDIS is going to need a thorough tune-up," Jack said between bites. "Rose really did a number on her. A lot of surface damage – easily fixed – but some of the wiring and components in the rotor were really fried, and the stabilizers were a complete mess. I did what I felt comfortable with to get her off the Gamestation."

"'M sure you did a fantastic job. You have a real feel for the old girl." Jack really was a natural with the TARDIS right from the start, thought the Doctor, enthusiastic to learn and a quick study. It had been a surprise for him to find that he enjoyed having another person, a man, to share the pleasurable task of keeping the ship running smoothly. Rose helped him where she could, passing tools and such, but she was usually reading a magazine or painting her toenails at the same time. His mouth twitched with amusement.

"Thanks – I'm just glad I paid attention to all your maintenance," Jack said, obviously gratified by the Doctor's vote of confidence. "I'll feel better after you check her out, though."

The Doctor wolfed down two slices of toast – his appetite was returning with a vengeance – then asked, "Did Rose tell you what she did after the TARDIS took her away?"

"Her memory's pretty sketchy, but she said she was trying to get the TARDIS to fly back to the Gamestation. After Mickey tried to help her, her mother got her hands on a tow truck, and they managed to pull open the console. I think the old girl must've put up a real fight."

"'M sure she did." The Doctor's tone was rueful. "She knew what I had done and why."

"But why did she break open the console?" Jack asked, puzzled. "How did she think that would help her?"

The Doctor was silent for a moment, thoughts whirring through his head, then responded. "I think… remember Cardiff and Blon – Margaret?"

"Yeah. You opened the console and she looked inside, then she changed into an egg. But what does that have to do with Rose getting back?"

"I think Rose remembered that Blon was granted her wish after she looked into the heart of the TARDIS – to be able to redo her life. She must've thought that the TARDIS would grant her wish to come back."

"Sounds like Rose," Jack decided, polishing off the last of his eggs. "Including the stubbornness. She wouldn't just accept being sent away."

"I knew she wouldn't be happy with it. Just didn't imagine she'd be able to do anything about it." His expression was grim as he absently drank his tea.

"But how did she fly the TARDIS – and by herself? She's never been one to be too interested in piloting."

"She doesn't remember that?"

"No." Jack watched the Doctor's face, waiting for his response.

"It wasn't Rose doin' the flying – it was the TARDIS herself," was the Doctor's eventual reply. "Rose was the – conduit, the channel her power flowed through."

"Power?"

"The power of the time vortex itself."

Jack's expression was frankly incredulous. "Wait – you're saying – the vortex was – inside Rose?"

"Yep," the Doctor answered, popping the "p". Well, that was new, he thought in mild surprise.

"But no one can hold that kind of power without burning up!" Amazement was written all over the former Time Agent's face.

"That's what I thought, too, until she did it. She does tend to do the impossible, Rose." There was a mixture of frustration and pride in his tone as he said this.

Jack was looking down into his mug, mulling over what he had learned, and the Doctor quickly decided to grab the opportunity to get away. He felt very fortunate that he had not had to deal with the giant elephant sitting squarely in the middle of the room, at least for the moment. Cowardly, he knew, but still… He placed his hands on the table top and pushed himself up.

"Well, I'm going to check out the damage for myself," he said with strained heartiness, heading for the door. "Why don't you take some time for yourself and I'll see you later…"

"Doctor."

Once again the Doctor was brought to a halt by Jack's voice. It was quiet but carrying, and again he could not pretend he hadn't heard. He closed his eyes in resignation, knowing what was coming, knowing he could not stop him from asking, knowing he had no right to keep the truth from him.

"There's something you're not telling me." It was a statement, not a question. "Something _about_ me."

"Jack…" He did not turn around, could not face him.

"I know it's not just surprise that I'm alive," he interjected. "Rose may have bought that, but… I can see it in your face." The Doctor silently cursed Jack's perceptiveness. "Whatever it is, it can't be worse than wondering and guessing."

"Don't be too sure," he said with a sharp, humorless laugh.

"Doctor, please." The quiet determination in his friend's voice seemed to cut through him like a scalpel. "I need to know."

"Jack, I just don't know how to-"he began helplessly, unable to face him. _Some things didn't change_, he thought bitterly. _Still the coward, every time._

"Try just spitting it out. You're usually pretty good at the blunt honesty thing."

"Don't ask Rose's opinion on that," he retorted dryly. There was no choice now – he knew there wasn't, and so he slowly turned around. Jack was still sitting at the table, eyes fixed steadily on him, pinning him. The Doctor had rarely seen him look so serious.

"OK," he finally said with a deep sigh and sat down heavily across from him. He met Jack's bright blue eyes unflinchingly – he owed his friend that much, he thought bleakly. "Earlier you were telling me what you remembered from Floor 500, when the Daleks cornered you and you tried to hold them off."

Jack nodded, so he continued, "You said one minute they were there and the next there was nothing but dust and you were lying on the ground, right?" Again a nod. "What do you think happened?"

"I don't know, Doc – that's why I'm asking you," he replied, raising his hands in a helpless gesture.

"You died, Jack. The Daleks killed you."

"I… died?" he repeated blankly.

"I could feel it, the moment you were killed, a sort of… absence." The Doctor remembered with a pang the hollow ache that had filled him the moment he heard the blasts.

"So, if I died," Jack said slowly, trying to reason through this information, "how did I end up here, alive? When I woke up there was no one around, no one who could have helped me."

"It was Rose," he answered without preamble.

"Rose?"

The Doctor nodded. Foolishly he hoped that the conversation, the revelation would end here, with Jack's amazement at being alive, alive because of Rose. _I don't want to tell him, I can't tell him _ran like a litany through his brain.

"Now that definitely doesn't make sense, Doc." Jack ran his hands through his dark hair, obviously confused. "Rose wasn't there, and she didn't have any way to-"

"It was the vortex," he interrupted. "She used the power of the vortex to kill all the Daleks and bring you back to life."

Now Jack laughed, a look of amused disbelief on his handsome face. "C'mon, Doc, are you sure you're thinking straight? Rose – our Rose destroyed the entire Dalek fleet singlehandedly and just for kicks brought me back? You're joking, right?"

"I've never been more serious, Jack," the Doctor said quietly, and Jack's laughter died away. "Rose became something different, infinitely powerful, with the vortex running through her." He paused, remembering. "She called herself Bad Wolf, said she had been scattering those words all over time and space to lead her back. Back to that moment. A closed time loop so she could destroy the Daleks and end the Time War."

"And save us." There was awe in Jack's voice and face.

"And save us," the Doctor repeated, feeling the same awe well up in him. His Rose, his determined, stubborn, amazing girl… she had done all that to save them.

Jack's voice broke into his thoughts. "But that's not all you have to tell me." It was not a question. "You wouldn't be looking at me like you've been if that was all it was."

"Looking at you how?" He was afraid of Jack's answer.

"Like it hurts."

The succinct reply made him wince. So perceptive, Jack was, behind that careless playboy exterior. He tried, failed to think of an easy way to tell him what he would have given so much to change.

"Rose didn't just bring you back," he said at last. "She brought you back permanently."

"Permanently? What does that mean, permanently?"

A deep, steadying breath, then the plain, bald truth. There was nothing left but that. "You can't die, Jack. She made you immortal."

Hearing his own voice state this incomprehensible yet inarguable fact and watching its effects was like a physical blow. He desperately wanted to take the words back, return the joyful twinkle to his friend's eyes. _Pain – all he seemed capable of giving to those he cared about was pain_, he thought bleakly.

The color was draining from Jack's face, leaving him ghostly pale. "That's… that's impossible."

"She wanted you alive." He stated it simply, without prevarication. "She overdid it. Too enthusiastic with her power."

"How do you know?" This was asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I can see it, feel it. You're – wrong. It _does_ hurt me to look at you, because someone like you shouldn't exist." It was blunt, too blunt, but the Doctor didn't know how else to say it.

Jack rose abruptly from his chair and paced about the room, running his hands through his hair repeatedly. "Humans live a lot longer in the 51st century, over 200 years." He was grasping at straws, trying to make sense of this. "Maybe you're feeling that – "

"No, Jack." The Doctor cut him off deliberately, ruthlessly. He couldn't let him chase after illusions, kind as that might seem at the moment. "You're a fixed point." Jack's eyes were riveted to his face, bewildered, desperate. "A Time Lord can see all of time, spread out before him. What has been, what is, what could be." _An image of Rose, golden and blazing_. "I can see time lines shifting, in flux, some possibilities coming to fruition, others fading away. Most of time is fluid, but certain points, events affecting certain people's lives are fixed, unchangeable without catastrophic damage to the fabric of the future." He paused. "But not the people themselves. Never people. You are fixed."

He could see the truth dawning in Jack's eyes, the ramifications crashing down on him. He was a former Time Agent – he understood enough of time travel to comprehend the awful reality of what the Doctor told him. Only a time traveler knew that eternal existence was not the gift others imagined it was.

"So I'll never die. Ever." Five small words – how could such small words sum up the whole of Jack's future?

"No."

Jack fell back into his chair and covered his face with his hands for a long minute. The Doctor could think of nothing to say. He was rubbish with emotions, he thought in helpless frustration, complete rubbish. Rose was always the one who knew what to do, how to comfort – Gwyneth in Cardiff, her dad outside the church, himself in a bunker in Utah.

"Will I age?" The question was muffled.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Probably so slowly as to be imperceptible."

"What will happen if I get hurt?" Jack lifted his head and met the Doctor's eyes. "Say I jump off a hundred story building. Will I just – bounce when I hit the ground?"

The Doctor smiled slightly but without humor. "No, you'll die – then you'll come back to life."

Jack's eyes probed him searchingly. "You're… you're absolutely sure? There's no chance you're wrong?"

"I guess there's a chance," he answered cautiously. "Since I've never met anyone like you I could be wrong."

"But you don't think you are." Obviously what he had been looking for in the Doctor's face had not been found.

He couldn't lie, not now, not to him. "No, I don't." A pause, then he added, "I wouldn't advise you testing the theory, though, just in case. Not until I've analyzed you thoroughly."

"Don't worry – I won't try to block a bullet with my body or anything," Jack quipped with a weak attempt at a smile. Once again the Doctor was amazed. Humans were brilliant, he thought, so resilient even when facing the very worst.

"Rose was holding all that power," Jack continued. "You said it should have burned her up. Did anything happen to her?"

"It would have killed her if she had held it much longer than she did." He shuddered slightly as he remembered her fear and pain as the wild fury of the vortex blazed in her, consuming her. "It _was _killing her. I took it out of her and sent it back into the TARDIS. But the energy started destroying me – that's why I regenerated."

Jack lowered his head into his hands again, lost in his thoughts. As he waited, the Doctor closed his eyes and his own thoughts began to drift, back to Floor 500. Once again Rose was burning in front of him, tear tracks streaking her face.

_His hearts breaking at her pain, he knew what he needed to do. It didn't matter the cost to him. She had saved him, his brilliant, beautiful girl, and now it was his turn to save her._

_My head – it's killing me!_

_C'mere. You need a Doctor._

And, with that, the last missing piece of his memory fell into place. He now fully remembered what had happened, how he had removed the deadly energy from her.

_He could just touch her temple, and the power would be sucked from her. But looking down into her eyes, brown and swirling gold, he realized what he wanted to do. Just this one time, he thought, in this body which would soon begin its change. He needed to tell her what he felt for her, the fantastic girl who had saved him in more ways than he could begin to count. But this man he was now, unlike his smooth-tongued predecessor, never seemed to have the right words. And so he placed his hands, not on her temples, but on her shoulders, drew her in and lowered his lips to hers. One slow, gentle kiss – he tried to put the whole of his ancient, broken soul into that simple touch. And as the burning energy left her and flowed into him and as her body fell softly into his arms, he felt a shock, like an electric current, run through his brain. He saw memories and felt emotions that were not his own. His mind, empty of all but his own lonely thoughts for so long, was suddenly filled, illuminated by another. He gasped, and his knees almost buckled under him._

His eyes flew open and stared, unseeing, at the wall before him, shock and amazement coursing through him in equal measure. His brain was making the connections at blinding speed. He now knew what else Rose had done while possessed by the vortex. Her statement, made with such sweetness – "I want you safe, my Doctor" – he now understood. My Doctor. That was the important word, "my". Rose didn't just save him – she saved him as he was, kept him from changing as he regenerated. He had literally been remade for her. Her heart's wish granted. Still the Doctor she knew.

And that was not all that had happened. Her longing for his presence and safety, combined with the power raging through her, had reached into his mind, past the mental barriers he had carelessly allowed to weaken since the destruction of his people, had forged a telepathic bond with him. Delicate yet strong as steel, she had wound herself into the fabric of his mind before he could even fully register the fact. This was the reason, like a plucked string on a harp, he seemed to vibrate in response to her presence and touch.

_Oh, Rose_, _what have you done?_ he moaned silently, his brain reeling with the implications. It wasn't a full bond – probing, he could immediately sense this – but it was still something he had never intended and could not yet fully comprehend. What did this mean for their relationship? What were the consequences of a bond with a non-Time Lord, and how could he control the effects? He cursed himself for his weakness in kissing her, felt the all-too-familiar pangs of guilt begin to twine around him.

"We can't tell her what happened." The Doctor was brought back to the present with a jolt. Jack was gazing at him steadily. "Rose can't know what she did – it's not her fault, but she'd never forgive herself. I don't want that guilt on her – at least for as long as possible."

The Doctor stared back at him and, unbidden, came to his mind what he had said to the captain when he had first entered the TARDIS…

"_It's bigger on the inside."_

"_You better be."_

Despite the immensity of the news he had just been given, Jack thought about its effects on Rose. He truly was bigger on the inside, he marveled.

"I'm not just accepting this," he stated quietly and firmly. "If there's some way to change this, I'll find it."

"Thanks, Doc," Jack replied with a small smile and then, eyeing the man across from him closely, "Is it too hard for you to be around me? You can drop me off on Earth if it is -51st century. I can find my way from there."

The Doctor hesitated. When he had first walked into the kitchen, he had wanted nothing more than for Jack to be gone, as far away as possible. But now, after this conversation, to his great relief he could once again see his friend.

"No, Jack," he denied honestly. "It _is_ hard, but it's getting easier. I don't want you to leave. Besides, it'd break Rose's heart."

"I'd do just about anything to avoid that," he agreed. "She's quite a girl, our Rosie."

_I used to be jealous of him_, he remembered with a flash of surprise. _When had that stopped?_

"'M sorry, Jack. So sorry for all of this." Such inadequate words.

Jack smiled with a touch of his old flash and charm. "Don't worry about me. Just think, with all the time in the universe, imagine the number of people I'll be able to – "

"I think I'll pass on that particular image, thanks," the Doctor interrupted with mock regret, and Jack laughed.

"Your loss." He stood up slowly. "I think I will take you up on your suggestion." Walking to a cupboard, he took down a glass and a bottle of hypervodka the Doctor didn't remember picking up. "I'm going to go to my room with this and get good and hammered. Then I'll sober up and face it all." Crossing over to the Doctor, he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for your honesty, Doc, and your friendship."

Before the Doctor could answer him, he strode quickly out of the room.

"Complete and utter rubbish at this," he repeated aloud in exhaustion as he too rose and left the kitchen, heading for the control room. He needed to clear his head, and right now the only way to do it was with a spanner in his hands and grease under his nails. Let me hide for just a little while and pretend that nothing's changed, he requested, a hint of desperation in the thought he sent out to the TARDIS. She hummed soothingly in reply as he collected his tools.


	6. No Escape

Four days of relative peace passed. Rose had accepted the Doctor's heavily edited version of events on the Gamestation with a surprising minimum of questions. For now, she just seemed relieved that he was alive and awake and himself. He was not sure how long it would be before she would ask for a more thorough accounting. Or perhaps she would begin to remember, although he doubted that would happen. The trauma caused by holding the vortex more than likely caused those memories to be lost, probably forever.

Jack emerged from his room the day after their talk and, besides slightly bloodshot eyes, looked none the worse for his drinking binge. He behaved quite as he always had – joking with the Doctor, shamelessly flirting with Rose, assisting with TARDIS repairs. The Doctor, however, could see the shadow in his blue eyes and knew that all was not completely well with the Captain and knew that, for the present at least, there was little he could do to help him. He found that, with the passage of time, the aversion he felt to Jack's presence lessened. He could now look at the man quite calmly and even tolerate physical contact without the gut-wrenching horror he had first experienced. He was truly relieved by this. He was realizing more and more each day how much the loss of Jack would have hurt him. He was glad he could offer him the support of real friendship again.

For his part, the Doctor was finding it difficult to feel settled. Excess regeneration energy was still bubbling away (he was "still cooking", as he put it), and he felt odd in his own skin. Most everything about him was the same, but there were small differences that cropped up unexpectedly, like altered notes in a well-remembered song. In the past, the changes had somehow been easier because _everything _was different then. These small, subtle changes left him feeling vaguely uneasy. He was still sleeping every night- normally a nap once a week was sufficient. He found he liked his tea much sweeter than he had before. When changing clothes, he picked jumpers in lighter colors and sometimes passed them up altogether in favor of soft cotton tee shirts. He had lost his taste for classical music and found himself listening to indy rock instead.

One of the strangest changes was that, at times, he seemed to have little control over what he said – the internal filter between brain and mouth appeared to have developed some troubling holes. The first time had been when they were debating where to take the TARDIS for her first small jaunt after the majority of the repairs were completed. As he moved quickly around the console, checking switches and levers, he said, "What do you say – where to? We could go to Atavaria – there's a great market with some really brilliant tool shops, although the weather is not the best right now – pretty stormy, can cover the whole planet. Or else there's Ooluck – weather's great there, but the food's terrible – they have their own version of pears, just as horrible as on Earth, why would anyone ever think to put one of those in his mouth, anyway?- and the residents are a little… slimy, and I know how you hate slime, Rose. Slime's really not that bad, you know – can be dead useful, excellent sunscreen and really helps reduce friction. Except on Zonglon 5, now that's some nasty-"

He stopped speaking abruptly as he saw the looks of astonishment on his companions' faces and felt his own face flush.

"Wow," Jack said in a deadpan tone.

"The Oncoming Babble," Rose giggled, and Jack let out a loud snort of laughter. The Doctor glared at them, and their faces assumed the somber expressions of mourners at a poorly attended funeral, except for their dancing eyes. He sighed huffily and turned around with poorly disguised embarrassment, only to hear the pair of them snickering behind him like schoolchildren. _ Brilliant_, he thought in disgust, _now I'm a blabbering idiot._

The biggest change, however, he kept to himself, and it was one he couldn't wrap his head around – the inexplicable, astounding bond between him and Rose. He still could not fully comprehend the amazing reality of the situation. Gallifreyans were a telepathic species – from birth, they were never completely alone in their own minds. Oh, it wasn't as if one could just run roughshod through another's thoughts and memories. From a young age they were taught how to erect protective barriers and also polite behavior with regard to the joining of minds. Invitation only, so to speak. The presence of others of his people in his mind had been like a low, comforting hum for centuries no matter where or when he traveled. Then came the end of the Time War and the destruction of his planet and his people, and the Doctor awoke in a new body, with literal and figurative blood on his hands and his mind silent and empty for the first time in his long life. Drowning in loneliness, he was still not sure how he had not lost his sanity in those early years of his ninth incarnation.

Now, suddenly, he could feel the smallest brush of another inside his thoughts, and he was dazed with wonder. So far she seemed unaware of the connection between them. He couldn't read her thoughts and didn't dare push himself into her mind. He merely opened his own mind, carefully lowered barriers, and allowed her emotions to passively swirl through him. The sensation was utterly dazzling. He felt intoxicated by the delicate touch of her feelings, like the brush of butterfly wings across his thoughts. He watched her closely for any sign that she sensed him, any distress or shock. Maybe her eyes lingered on him a few moments longer, a little puzzled, but that was all. Sometimes he felt uncomfortable, like he was invading her privacy, taking something from her without her awareness or permission. But the sense of presence was addictive after being so alone. So he continued to bask in the warm golden glow of her and allowed that subtle touch to chase away some of the shadows that had long ago taken up residence in him.

He would have been quite content to remain just as they were, but fate had something else less pleasant in store for him, as he abruptly discovered to his dismay.

The three were gathered in a cozy corner of the TARDIS's expansive library. Jack was sitting at a small table covered with various electronic bits and bobs, tapping his foot in rhythm to the futuristic techno music that could be heard leaking from his earphones. Rose was staring intently at the chessboard positioned between her and the Doctor. He was teaching her the basics of the game; he would have to move on from the basics pretty quickly, he thought with a bit of surprise, because she was picking up strategies with remarkable speed. He watched her proudly as she plotted with the seriousness of a general, brow furrowed in concentration and tongue caught between her teeth. He knew how desperately she wanted to beat him. Finally she slid her rook forward two spaces.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?" he murmured idly, contemplating his next move.

"I was just talkin' to my mum. She said it's almost Christmas at home. Two days away."

"Is it?" _A-ha! She hadn't anticipated this_, he thought gleefully, and reached out to make his move.

"She'd really like it if we came for dinner."

The Doctor's hand jerked and knocked over his king. His eyes shot up to her face in alarm.

"What?" he exclaimed, his voice louder than usual.

"I haven't been home since… well, you know," Rose began.

"You've talked to her on the phone almost every day," he retorted, straightening his pieces with rather more care than necessary. No, no, no, this was not good – this was very, very bad. Suitcases full of bad.

"I want to _see_ her," she reiterated, quite stubbornly in his opinion. "And Mickey'll be there, too. Don't make that face!" she added as she watched his expression become disdainful.

"Ricky's not exactly a big draw, Rose." He became aware that Jack had removed his earphones and was watching their exchange with amused interest, so he made a show of studying the chessboard again. "And besides, the TARDIS might not be up to such a long trip. _Someone_ took a tow truck to her, remember?" He smirked slightly. Nothing like the application of a little guilt to help his cause, he thought with satisfaction.

His satisfaction, however, was short-lived. "It'd be so nice for Mum, having me actually come on a specific day and not have it end up to be a year later." Rose did not so much as blink an eye as she returned the guilt back to him with interest. "You said yourself the TARDIS was back in shape." Her voice took on a gently wheedling tone. "Doctor, it's Christmas…" He realized with a fresh wave of alarm that this did not bode well for his resolve.

"Rose, we live on a time machine. We can go back anytime and it can be Christmas." Not paying attention, he made his move and immediately saw that he had left his queen wide open to attack. Trying again to distract her, he added with a wide smile, "Besides, I was thinkin' of stretching the old girl's legs by goin' to this great little planet – you'd love it, shops everywhere and miles of sunny beaches –"

"I wanna go home for Christmas. This Christmas." Her expression was determined.

"Rooose…" He was appalled to hear himself whine her name.

She obviously smelled victory, for she pulled out her final weapon. She looked at him pleadingly from beneath her lashes. "Please, Doctor?" she said softly.

And that was the end. With a deep sigh of defeat, the Doctor figuratively fell on his sword. "Oh, all right, if you're going to keep at me about it," he relented huffily, and Rose let out a squeal.

"Game, set, and match!" Jack exclaimed, pointing at Rose with a triumphant gesture.

"Stay out of this, captain, or I'll sic her mum on you," the Doctor grumbled, refusing to look his way.

"That's right – you never met my mum!" Rose smiled at Jack.

"This should be entertaining – Jack Harkness versus Jackie Tyler," said the Doctor with a wicked lift of his eyebrows.

"She'll love me," Jack declared with his broad grin.

"That's why you should be afraid," rejoined the Doctor, smirking.

Rose jumped up from her chair. "I'm going to go call her now. She'll be so excited."

"What about our game?" The Doctor gestured toward the board, forgetting his potentially disastrous last move.

"Oh, you're going to beat me again anyway – you're so clever," she replied breezily, giving his ego a quick stroke, magnanimous in her victory.

"Too true, that," he agreed smugly.

He did not want her to leave quite yet, he decided. So, as she began to walk past his chair, he shot his arm out and caught her by the waist. His other arm snaked around her and he linked his hands behind her back, encircling her and tugging until she stood between his knees. Rose looked down at him, first in surprise and then in delight. She placed her own hands on his shoulders and beamed down at him, eyes shining and tongue caught between her teeth in the smile he liked to think was only for him. His hearts contracted as he felt her joy brush against his mind and his own joy rise up out of dark, dusty corners. Christmas with Jackie was a small price to pay for this, he thought, relishing the moment.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," he returned, unable to keep a wide smile off his own face. He had a strange feeling that capitulating to her requests was going to become a habit if such happiness was the result.

She took her right hand off his shoulder and briefly laid it, soft and warm, against the hard plane of his cheek, then bent down and pressed a swift kiss on his forehead. Before he could fully register the gesture, she was stepping away from him, heading toward the library door. "I've got tons to do – see you later," she called back gaily as she disappeared from view. The Doctor stared after her in bemusement, then became aware that a silly, very un-Doctorish smile was plastered all over his face and felt himself flushing.

"Don't even think it," he said, knowing without looking that Jack's face was alight with wicked humor.

"Wouldn't dare to," Jack answered with perfect innocence. He waited a beat before adding quickly, "You didn't stand a chance, you know."

"Shut it," the Doctor said succinctly, not yet willing to let go of the moment.

"Well, what are we going to do about getting presents?" Jack asked. "We'd better make a quick stop before the big day."

The Doctor looked around so quickly that he cricked his neck. "Presents?" he squawked, wincing with pain, the smile now thoroughly wiped away.

"Presents," Jack repeated firmly. "I may be from the 51st century, but I do know enough about Christmas to know that present are a definite requirement. Unless you want to get on Rose's bad side – and, based on your behavior the past few minutes, I'm guessing you don't." He stood up, snickering at the Doctor's expression. "Suck it up, Doc – we're going shopping, and not for TARDIS parts, either."


	7. The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

_I just wanted to send a special thank you to Purple Guest for your very kind reviews, since I'm unable to PM you. They are very much appreciated._

* * *

Two days later Rose stood in the control room, bouncing on her toes with excitement, as the Doctor and Jack prepared to pilot the TARDIS to what she sincerely hoped was Christmas Day at the Powell Estates. They had stopped for an afternoon on a small planet with some very nice shops (and a distinct lack of pears and slime, to both the Doctor's and Rose's relief) to complete their preparations. Rose had been quite amused to watch Jack drag a grumbling Doctor off into the crowds, and even more amused when they returned a couple hours later bickering "like an old married couple" as she had gleefully told them.

"Well, that was absolutely frustrating," Jack had said to her later as he poured himself a drink and plopped down on a chair in the kitchen. "He harangued one seller for fifteen minutes about the shoddiness of his merchandise and threatened to call some made-up intergalactic inspection team to shut them down. All the shoppers in the booth put down their stuff and left, and then the whole block of merchants turned us away."

"Been there, done that, have the tee shirt," Rose had commented sympathetically.

"Never again," he had vowed and bolted down his drink in one.

"Now remember, Christmas is December 25," she said as the Doctor danced with his usual manic grace around the console, pushing and twirling the controls.

"I know," he said through gritted teeth, attempting patience.

"2005," she added helpfully.

"Rose…" he said with a warning tone in his voice.

"One year late…" she chanted under her breath but loud enough for those distinctive ears to hear.

"Just you watch, Rose Tyler – I'll be spot on this time!" he boasted as he carefully_ (very carefully – he would never live it down if he botched this, he thought) _set the final coordinates. "Ok, Jack – let's go!"

Rose braced herself against the railing as the TARDIS made its usual bumpy landing. The Doctor flipped on the parking break with a flourish. "There you go – Christmas Day, 2005, London!" he announced importantly.

"I'm withholding judgment 'til I see for meself," she muttered. "C'mon, let's go. Grab that bag, Jack. Doctor…" she pinned him with a piercing stare "be good."

"Oi! I'm always good!" _Hm, it sounded like his indignant tone was going to get a real workout today_, he thought wryly. But he did not want to spoil the day for her, so he added, "I promise."

Mollified, she turned to follow Jack, who had already stepped out of the TARDIS. Before she could take a step, however, the Doctor stayed her with a hand on her arm. "You look beautiful," he blurted out impulsively. _Blast it, filter nonfunctional again,_ he thought, mentally kicking himself.

Rose slowly turned around. She was wearing a soft red sweater and slim black trousers with long black boots. Her hair tumbled in golden waves onto her shoulders, and she had applied her makeup with a much lighter hand than usual. She was lovely.

"For a human?" she asked with a hint of a teasing smile, and he cringed inside as he remembered saying those words on their first Christmas, in Cardiff. _What a git he had been._

"You're beautiful. Full stop," he answered sincerely. _In for a penny, in for a pound…_

She stared up at him with undisguised astonishment, her face suffused with color. Her mouth opened and closed, at a complete loss for words, but before she could say anything, Jack's head poked back into the ship. "Are you coming?" he asked. "I see Mickey and a very excited blonde heading our way, so I think this is the place."

Color still high but recovering her poise, Rose held out her hand to the Doctor and waggled her fingers. "Ready?"

He shot a quick glance around the wonderfully safe control room and sighed heavily_. How had this happened to him? A Time Lord, doing domestics…_ "As ready as I'll ever be," he pronounced with the tone of a man walking to the gallows, threading his fingers through hers and allowing her to pull him out into the pale sunshine of Christmas Day.

Memories rushed upon him as he cast his gaze around the cramped, grafittied space. Being pursued by an insistent blonde as he attempted to "swan off" with a plastic arm. Bringing Rose home to find "Missing" posters stuck everywhere. Being picked up by the military during the invasion of the Slitheen. Watching a boy wash away the words "Bad Wolf" from the side of the TARDIS. Carrying Rose's overloaded bag the day she joined him for real…

Jackie was running across the courtyard, Mickey trailing behind her. Rose dropped his hand and allowed her mum to sweep her into her arms. "Sweetheart, you're here!" Jackie exclaimed, hugging her daughter tightly. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it, but you're here!"

_Hmph, first dig of the day_, he thought grumpily. "Happy Christmas, Mum," Rose said, returning her mother's embrace. "Of course we're here – the Doctor promised, didn't he?" she added with a loyal glance back at him.

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything…" Jackie muttered quietly, forgetting (or perhaps not forgetting, knowing her, he silently groused) his acute hearing.

"Oi! Standin' right here," he reminded her, raising his eyebrows.

"Mum, you promised." Rose's voice held a warning.

Jackie released her daughter and walked up to the Doctor with a resigned expression. "Happy Christmas, Doctor. So glad you were able to come," she said, sounding as if she had rehearsed this.

At least ten snarky comebacks rose to his lips, but with difficulty he managed to suppress them all. "Thank you, Jackie," he replied dutifully. "Happy Christmas to you, too." Rose smiled at him encouragingly, and he felt uncomfortably like a dog being praised for a successful trick.

Obviously relieved that this duty was complete, Jackie eyed Jack with a look of extreme interest. _Now this was going to be fun_, the Doctor thought gleefully, leaning against the TARDIS, leather clad arms crossed over his chest.

"And who is this?" Jackie asked with a simper, sidling up to him.

"Captain Jack Harkness," volunteered Jack immediately, holding out his hand with his best matinee-idol smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tyler."

"Oh, call me Jackie," she smiled, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. "I do love a military man, Captain. And the pleasure is all mine, I'm sure." She ignored his hand and held out her arms instead. "No need to be so formal. Rose has told me all about you, so it's like we're already friends." She grabbed him and hugged him enthusiastically. The Doctor couldn't suppress his snort of laughter at Jack's surprised expression; Rose frowned at him, then turned away to hug Mickey, who had been eyeing him with ill-disguised distaste.

"Wouldn't hurt you to help a friend, would it?" Jack muttered, looking distinctly rumpled. Jackie had finally released him and, linking arms with Rose, was leading the way back to the apartment.

"Warned you, I did – might want to be more careful with the jokes in the future," the Doctor replied with an unrepentant grin. The chattering voices of the Tyler women drifted back to them as they followed behind. "Buckle up – that's just the beginning."

They all crowded into the apartment, slightly shabby yet festively decorated for the season, and settled around the living room. Rose sat next to Mickey, eagerly filling him in on all that had happened since "the tow truck incident." Jack lounged in a chair near the small Christmas tree, listening, eyes darting with interest around Rose's home. The Doctor stood apart, leaning stiffly against the wall and trying not to care that Mickey's knees were touching Rose's and that she seemed to have forgotten that he was there at all. Maybe, when no one was looking, he could slip out for just a few minutes, he thought hopefully. He had not liked the sound the TARDIS had made when -

"Doctor!" Jackie's voice hailed him from across the room. "Will you help me in the kitchen for a mo'? Drinks and nibbles, you know."

The Doctor gave a start of alarm. "Me? What about Rose?" he said loudly, clear desperation in his tone. His eyes sought Rose's, looking for rescue, but the frustrating girl was either too absorbed with Ricky or she was purposely ignoring his plight. Probably the latter. "She could – "

"She wants to catch up with Mickey," she interrupted firmly. "Come on, or is helping out above you?"

Shooting a pointed glare Jack's way (the captain was enjoying his discomfort entirely too much), he slowly trudged through the swinging door into the small kitchen. Jackie was bustling about, pulling down plates and bowls from the cupboards. "Put those crackers on the plate with the cheese, will you?" she asked him.

He hurried to do as she asked (_just get this done, and then you can retreat_, he told himself) while she poured wine into mismatched glasses. "So, Doctor," she said with studied airiness, "you're all better now?"

"Seem to be," he answered shortly.

"Rose was really worried," she continued, putting the glasses on a tray. "Never heard her sound so scared."

_Great, a dressing-down from Jackie Tyler on Christmas_, he thought in disgust. "I didn't mean to scare –" he began defensively.

Jackie turned around to face him, and he was surprised to see that her expression was not hostile but actually rather kind. "I know you didn't, Doctor," she said gently. "Just makin' sure you know how she felt. You may think she's all brave and outgoin', but she can be private about her feelings." She paused and regarded him with sudden keenness. "You're pretty private with your feelings too."

Her directness and perceptiveness caught him completely off guard. He did not know what to say to this, so he merely stood before her in silent discomfort. It was clear from her demeanor that she had something more to say, but she seemed to be unsure how to proceed. After awkwardly fiddling with the flatware piled up on the table, she finally said, "I wanted to thank you." A long pause, then "I haven't exactly been your biggest fan –" he could not quite suppress a small snort of laughter – "but you sent her home to me. Oh, I know she didn't stay." She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "She's stubborn – got that from me, o'course. But you tried to keep her safe. That means a lot to me."

Whatever he had been expecting when he walked into the kitchen, it had not been this. "I meant it when I said I would keep her safe, Jackie. And yeah," he smiled ruefully, "she _is_ stubborn."

"Did you ever have kids, Doctor?" Her question almost literally took his breath away. "Rose told me… about your home being destroyed. You're not really young, are you? I figured you might have had a family at some time."

No one had ever confronted him about his personal past in such a pointed way before, and the Doctor found he was unable to speak past the sudden lump in his throat. He thought of Susan as he gave her one short, sharp nod, blinking rapidly.

"Then you know what it feels like to worry about them and want them to be happy," she said softly. "She's my whole world, Rose is. I wish she would stay here." She sighed heavily but then continued, "I don't understand it, but she's so happy with you in that bleedin' box o'yours. If you could've seen her tryin' to get back to you…" She shook her head with a small laugh. "Well, I don't think you should try to send her away again, 'cause heaven knows what she'd do. Just promise me you'll bring her home to visit now and again."

To his surprise, he found himself feeling genuine respect for the woman. "I will, Jackie," he replied sincerely. _A civil conversation with Jackie Tyler… would wonders never cease?_

"And you can bring that Captain Jack with you, too," she added with a wicked smile. "Definitely easy on the eyes, that one." The Doctor rolled his eyes. _Just can't help herself!_

She handed him the tray of drinks but, before he could turn to go, she grabbed his wrist and blurted out quickly, as if afraid she would lose her nerve, "Doctor, Rose told me you took her back to… to see her dad."

"Yes, I did," he said steadily, hiding his unease_. How much had Rose told her of that day?_

"I just wondered… well, he was always so undependable, chasing his next daft scheme…" Her voice cracked slightly as she choked out, "Was she… proud of him? The way he was?" She searched his face with a hint of desperation as she asked the question.

The Doctor looked at her with compassion. Before him stood, not Jackie Tyler, wielder of The Slap, but a woman who still lived in the shadow of heartbreak. He, better than anyone, could understand that. "Yes, Jackie, she was," he answered quietly. "She said he was the best dad in the world."

He saw a tear spill over her lid and trickle down her cheek before she turned away from him, ostentatiously busying herself with preparations. "Oh, well, that's… that's good," she muttered, knocking over a bowl with shaking hands, trying to regain her composure. "Now, what are you doin', just faffin' about? Go and serve those drinks – if you can manage it, your Time Lordship." She had assumed her usual brash tone and attitude. The Doctor was not fooled but allowed her the deception.

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," he sighed with pretend exasperation and carried the tray out of the room. _And Rose thought I couldn't be sensitive_, he thought with smug satisfaction as he passed around the drinks.

Christmas dinner was a quite painless affair after all. The food was good and everyone was on their best behavior. Jack regaled them with a few of his wild stories - all, as they inevitably did, involved him being naked at some point, much to Jackie's delight as she hung on his every word. Mickey even forgot to glare at the Doctor as they all laughed and joked. Rose taught Jack how to pull crackers, and he affixed the very bushy moustache he found inside his to his upper lip with childlike enthusiasm. The Doctor's cracker contained a gaudy pink crown, which Rose promptly snatched from his hands and plopped onto his head with undisguised glee. They toasted the holiday with eggnog, which Jackie had spiked and Jack had spiked more heavily still, and, in the five minutes between the alcohol hitting his system and his very efficient liver metabolizing it, the Doctor impulsively and tipsily promised Rose that they could come back tomorrow for tea after their grocery run.

"I'm holding you to that!" Rose laughed. "I have witnesses!"

After dinner they moved back to the living room and passed out the presents. Jackie splashed on the perfume Rose gave her with exclamations of delight, filling the room with the smell. Jack raved over the collection of twentieth century classic rock from Rose – Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, the Beatles- and swore to put the new tools from the Doctor to very good use on the TARDIS. Jackie was pleased with the large box of exotic off-world chocolates ("It is real chocolate, isn't it?" she asked nervously) from the Doctor and fuzzy pink scarf from Jack ("It changes color with your mood," he announced, and she was so excited that it immediately turned a bright gold). A manual of advanced computer coding, a bottle of hypervodka, and a hand-knitted hat made their way to Mickey, while boxes of clothes and makeup surrounded Rose, who was positively bubbling with childlike joy.

The Doctor was enjoying her reactions so much that she had to remind him to open his own gifts. He found a jar of leather lotion for his jacket from Mickey, a book of positively filthy jokes from Jack (he quickly hid that away under the wrapping paper, his ears turning red as Jack laughed at his embarrassment), and a surprisingly nice new jumper in a soft shade of blue from Jackie. Rose watched him intently as he opened her gift last. He beamed with pleasure at the sight of a hand-tooled leather bound copy of David Copperfield – first edition, too, he discovered as he carefully opened the cover. "Rose, it's mint," he declared. "Where did you find a first edition?"

"Just a dumpy little second-hand shop." She peeped at the title page curiously. "I didn't even notice. I just saw it was Dickens – knew you were his biggest fan, after all – and it was in such beautiful condition."

"Thank you. I love it." She grinned as he tucked it into his dimensionally transcendent jacket pocket with great care. When he removed his hand, he was holding a small rectangular box wrapped in red paper, which he handed to her before sitting back down in his chair. His whole body seemed to hum with nervous anticipation as, with an intrigued look, she began to unwrap it.

"Rose, sweetheart, what's wrong?" asked Jackie as she saw Rose open the lid of the box and stare blankly into it without saying a word, her mouth falling open in a perfect "O" . The Doctor watched with poorly concealed excitement as she held up the slim silver tube and gazed at it, utterly astounded.

"Now before you get all excited," he said swiftly, "it only has a few settings – torch, lock and unlock, that sorta thing. Can't hand a full one to such a jeopardy-friendly human, can I? Figure out a way to start World War III, you would," he added, trying to sound grumpy and failing utterly.

Jack and Mickey's attention was now focused on her as she looked at the sonic screwdriver in speechless wonder. She raised her eyes to the Doctor, her face radiant, and he was almost knocked back by the blast of joy she unknowingly sent his way. Then she launched herself out of her chair and, throwing herself into his hastily outstretched arms, hugged him fiercely. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she whispered into his neck, overcome with emotion, her breath hot against his skin.

"Happy Christmas," he murmured, pressing a kiss onto her temple and feeling somehow as if he had received the bigger gift.

Extricating herself from his embrace, she held out her sonic to be admired. "Look, Mum… look, Mickey, it's a sonic screwdriver," he heard her say, awestruck.

"Nice one, Doc," Jack said appreciatively, nodding his head, and the Doctor shrugged in feigned nonchalance. Only his smile gave him away.

As unexpectedly well as the day went, the Doctor was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed – too much domesticity, he realized uncomfortably. Luckily Rose seemed to realize this almost as soon as he felt the first touches of claustrophobia.

"Time to say goodnight, I think," she announced to the room in general. When Jackie began to complain, she added, "We'll be back for tea tomorrow, Mum – right, Doctor?" She winked at him teasingly.

"Man of my word, me," he replied grudgingly.

Wrapping paper was binned, presents gathered, and hugs exchanged – the Doctor managed to dodge Jackie, but Jack did not and submitted to the embrace with good grace. But his luck ran out at the doorway when Jack pointed above the Doctor's head at a green sprig dangling from a thread.

"Look who's under the mistletoe!" he exclaimed with a devilish grin. "Who is going to do the honors?"

Rose blushed brilliantly red and Mickey glared daggers as Jack shot her a mischievous look. Before the Doctor could make a run for it, however, Jackie stepped forward.

"Oh, c'mere, you daft alien!" she said loudly and, reaching up, grabbed him by the ears, pulled his head down, and planted a noisy kiss right on his gaping mouth.

A moment of stunned silence and then, as the Doctor flushed right to the tips of those ears, the room exploded with uproarious, hysterical laughter. Mickey was doubled over, clutching his sides. Tears were pouring down Jack's face as he leaned against the wall for support, and Rose had reached the point where her laughter could no longer be heard and she could hardly catch her breath. Jackie merely looked at the Doctor with smug satisfaction.

"Would've preferred a slap I think," he muttered to Rose as they finally left the apartment and walked back to the TARDIS. Jack was wheezing slightly and wiping his eyes, and Rose's cheeks were still flushed with merriment.

"You made it through Christmas," she proudly smiled at him as he unlocked the blue door. Standing on tiptoes as she passed him to enter the ship, she quickly kissed him on the cheek and announced, "And everybody lived, Doctor – everybody lived."

*o*o*o*o*o*o*

He found Rose in the library a couple hours later, as he wandered the halls of his ship unable to rest, and watched her silently from the doorway. She was lying on her favorite squashy sofa, wrapped in a colorful blanket. One hand held a mug, the other her new sonic. The sound of the merrily crackling fire blended with the soft Christmas music the TARDIS was piping through the room. Deciding not to disturb her, he was about to slip away unnoticed when she turned her head and saw him.

"Hi," she said with a smile.

"Hi yourself," he answered. "You're still awake."

"Not ready for bed yet. Thought I'd read for a bit, but the TARDIS made the room so cozy I decided to just enjoy it. You?"

"Going to read, too." He held up his gift. "Someone gave me a wonderful new book. Budge up," he commanded, walking over to the sofa and gesturing at the end occupied by her legs. She pulled them up to make room for him, setting her mug down on the floor as she did. Removing his jacket and draping it over the sofa's back, he sat down, pulled her feet out from under the blanket, unceremoniously removed her fuzzy socks, and began to rub them. She gave a little squeal at the coolness of his hands, then sighed with contentment.

"That's nice," she hummed. "I forgot how much those boots pinch my toes."

"And they're such nice toes, too," he replied teasingly, admiring the red polish.

She watched his large, work-roughened hands kneading her feet for a moment, then said quietly, "Thank you. For the foot rub, yes, and this –" she held out her sonic with a wondering look –"but more for the whole day. I know it wasn't easy for you."

"It was actually all right," he admitted with a hint of reluctance. "Like you said, everybody lived. "

"Barely, I think, when my mum kissed you. I wish you could've seen the look on your face!" She chuckled, a warm, rich sound that curled low inside him.

"Think I handled it quite well, considering," he returned with an attempt at dignity. "Your mum and I have come to an understanding. I'll keep watchin' out for you, she won't slap me into next week."

"Seems fair," Rose agreed with alacrity. "Told you she's softenin' up to you."

"I think bringing Jack along helped that," he said dryly.

"Oh, yeah, a definite plus," she grinned.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the music and the snap of the burning logs. Her skin was warm and soft in his hands, but he wanted more. After a moment of indecision, he ran them up over her ankles to her calves, toned with running, and she made a soft purring noise in the back of her throat as he massaged them, too_. Mmm, definitely a positive reaction_, he thought with satisfaction, storing that particular sound away in his memory. _Now_ this _was a Christmas he could enjoy._

"I never wanted to go to bed on Christmas night," Rose said, breaking the silence, her voice low and eyes fixed dreamily on the fire. He gazed at her, his eyes tracing the gentle curves of her profile as she continued, "We didn't have much when I was growin' up, Mum and me. She worked hard, but hairdressing doesn't pay a lot. Had what we needed but not many extras, even on Christmas. Sometimes, if business had been good, there would be a few more presents under our little tree. One year there was even a red bicycle." She cast him a sly little look out of the corner of her eye. "But some years there wasn't much at all. We always had a good day, though. In the evening we would curl up on the sofa with tea or cocoa and listen to carols on the radio and talk until I couldn't keep my eyes open. It was the best part of the day."

The eyes she turned upon him were full of firelight. "Did you have anything like Christmas… on your planet?" she asked hesitantly. She rarely asked him anything about his home, knowing how much it hurt him to remember. But tonight, in the warm, gentle privacy of the library, he felt safe enough to answer.

"Not really Christmas," he said slowly. "Not presents and lights and such. We did have a day when… we would share a thought or memory with those we really cared about, one we'd never shared before. Pretty private people, us, even though we're telepathic, so doin' that was a sign of trust. Old custom, most of the younger people didn't even know about it. Lots of years I never shared anything at all – didn't have anyone I was close enough to."

"I just told you about my favorite part of Christmas – never told anyone that before." Rose smiled at him shyly. "I guess I just celebrated your holiday, too."

Her face was guileless, and he knew she expected no return confession from him. The Doctor cast his gaze upon the fire, rubbing her insteps absently. He felt as if he was hovering on the edge of a precipice, caught between fear and a desire to let go, for just one moment to _let go… _"The name of my planet was Gallifrey," he finally whispered.

He did not look at her, but he heard her breath catch and hold as if she was afraid to break the spell that had opened him up. "The sky on Gallifrey was burnt orange. It had two suns, and when the second sun rose in the south, the white tops of the mountains would shine. The dome over the Citadel would glow – it was so beautiful, that city." The library receded from him as he remembered. "The leaves on the trees were silver – they caught the light every morning and made the forests look like they were on fire. When autumn came, the breeze would blow through the branches and make those leaves sing. When they fell, they would cover the red grass like glitter. I loved to lie in them and stare up into the sky and dream…dream of traveling …"

His voice trailed away as he returned to the present and looked at Rose. She wore the same expression she had when she had seen her sonic – stunned, overwhelmed. "Thank you," she whispered, a shine of tears in her eyes, and he knew that, with her wise, beautiful heart, she understood and accepted his gift.

It was suddenly all too much for him, the emotion and the memories – he was still so raw inside. She seemed to sense it, because she broke eye contact and gestured to the book he had set on the arm of the sofa. "Read to me?"

He was both relieved and strangely saddened by the loss of contact. "Your wish is my command, my lady," he acquiesced with a slight bow of his head, reaching for his gift. Lifting her legs, Rose swung herself around so that her head was now pillowed on his lap. He could feel the heat of her through the denim of his trousers. She turned on her side so she could watch the fire, and her hand rested warm on his knee, and her golden hair spilled across his lap. Opening the book, he cleared his throat and began to read, his voice low and slightly husky,

"'Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously…'"


End file.
